


I Just Can't Look

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8566465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: He can't miss it, so he has no choice other than to watch the man he loves marry someone else.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a very tiny Potterstock song fic fest over at LJ this year. My prompt was Mr Brightside by The Killers.
> 
> Warning(s): Language, angst, light drug use, alcohol consumption, hinted mental ill health.

He'd had enough. His head hurt and his legs ached and he was sick to the back teeth of pretending that he was enjoying himself. His new shoes had rubbed his feet raw and his formal dress robes were sticking to him in places that he did not enjoy.  
  
Thankfully the wedding seemed to be winding down and everyone around him was nicely sozzled. That hopefully meant they wouldn't notice him slinking off back to his flat to lick his wounds.  
  
Ron had been in love with Harry for long enough to know that his best friend's wedding day was always going to be a complete fucking nightmare. He'd tried everything he could think of to find an acceptable excuse to miss the day, but even if he'd been dead he was pretty sure his mother would have carted his corpse there in a wheelbarrow rather than have him miss it.  
  
 _”I just can't look, its killing me  
And taking control...”_  
  
Nobody had a clue about the mix of potions currently keeping him upright and his anxiety at bay. They were wearing off and he knew that because of the slight shake to his fingers as he lifted another flute of expensive Champagne to his lips.  
  
Harry's wealth had been completely unmissable. The day had been over the top for Ron's tastes but he felt he couldn't exactly blame his sister for going all out. They'd never had any money as kids and she'd never had particularly nice things. She was marrying one of the Wizarding community's most eligible men and money was no longer an issue.  
  
He internally sneered a little remembering that particular list in Witch Weekly. He'd come in quite high himself, but he didn't want the attention it had brought and it simply killed him to see Harry wading through hordes of females just to get into work in the morning.   
  
“Ron?”  
  
Lost in his own little world, he'd missed Charlie ambling up to him in robes even messier than his own.  
  
“Can I sit down?”  
“Knock yourself out,” Ron said, hearing how numb he sounded and knowing he needed to buck up his act.  
  
Charlie pulled out a chair at the table next to him and flopped down with a loud thud and a pained little moan.  
  
“Is it time to get out of these fucking robes yet?” Charlie muttered.  
“It was time about three hours ago.” Ron rubbed his nose. “Or at least it felt like it.”  
“Everyone seems like they've had a good day, at any rate.” Charlie tugged Ron's drink out of his hand and downed it in one gulp. “Well. Most people seem to have.”  
  
Ron knew what was being hinted at, but he wasn't about to offer up any information when he'd nearly made it through the whole day without spilling what he was hiding. His eyes fell on the last couple on the dance floor – naturally, the bride and groom. Harry looked deliciously dishevelled as he rocked in a slow revolve with Ginny. His tie was long gone and so was his outer robe. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow and his waistcoat was flapping loosely about his toned midsection.  
  
A lump rose in Ron's throat. He wanted to resent Ginny and on his bad days he did. On those occasions he couldn't even look at his little sister without wanting to rage. But as they were then and there - looking so content and relaxed in each other's arms - he couldn't hate either of them.  
  
Perhaps later, when he was at the bottom of a bottle of Firewhiskey and his anxiety had consumed him, the hate would come and burn him from the inside out.  
  
“Fancy a walk?” Charlie suggested. “I've got something to take the edge off...” He patted one of his pockets and gave Ron a wink.  
  
That piqued Ron's interest. Charlie could always be counted on for something to make the world seem a lighter place, and he was desperately in need of that. He got up wordlessly and followed his older brother to the edge of the marquee, where they slipped out into the chilly October night. Much had been made in the press of Harry's choice to marry on Halloween – the night of his parents' deaths. To Ron it made complete sense. Ever since they were children Harry had been seeking a way to make the memories of the day better. Holding his wedding on the same night that his life had been brutally ripped apart seemed the perfect way to correct things.  
  
 _As long as the marriage stays happy._ Ron hated that in his mind he'd played out a fantasy that it hadn't a thousand times or more.  
  
Ron followed Charlie through the darkness into the Orchard, which was full of natural death and bitter cold, but brilliantly quiet. He slouched over to one of the trees and leant against it, hissing as one of the ripped holes in his heels pressed into a part of his shoe with no give. Charlie pulled his wand out and lit the joint which was clamped between his lips. He inhaled deeply and held the smoke for some time before dropping his head back and blowing it out hard towards the stars.  
  
“That's better,” he said softly, holding it out to Ron.  
  
Ron eagerly took it and followed Charlie's lead. It tasted of normal tobacco and something heavier, probably marijuana with whatever else his slightly eccentric brother had thought was a good idea at the time.  
  
He felt dizzy as he sucked in his first mouthful and even more so by the time he blew it out. But it was a delicious kind of dizzy – the kind that promised relief and a break from the mess inside his head. He was in no hurry to hand it back to Charlie given all that, so he kept it and puffed several more times.  
  
“Stop hogging.” Charlie laughed as he came closer. “I know you're having a shit day but your sharing etiquette is atrocious, Ron.”  
“Why am I having a shit day?” Ron asked airily, having one last desperate puff before handing the joint back to his brother.  
  
Charlie stared at him.  
  
 _”It started out with a kiss.  
How did it end up like this?  
It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss...”_  
  
“Come on, Ron, don't play the fool. I'm not blind.”  
  
Ron shifted his weight awkwardly between his feet and looked away.  
  
“How long?” Charlie asked.  
“How long what?”  
“Ron. Please. Don't insult my intelligence any more.”   
“I don't want to say it out loud.”  
“Have you?” Charlie stepped in front of him. “Ever said it out loud to anyone?”  
  
Shaking his head, Ron accepted the joint back. “No.”  
  
“So. How long?” Charlie repeated.  
“I've known about a year. Maybe a bit more. Maybe always? I dunno.” He didn't stop his fingers from trembling as he smoked. “But today's been...”  
“Torture.”  
  
Ron nodded and allowed himself a miserable little sniff.  
  
“Have you... does he know?”  
“I've got no idea. We... we got drunk one night and we kissed. The next morning he didn't even fucking remember it and I was left trying to deal with it and I just...”  
“Fell for him. So that's why you and Hermione split up?”  
“Well, not specifically. I said I was 'confused'.”  
“Ah.”  
“She didn't want to end it... said she'd support me through exploring if I wanted to.”  
“That's Hermione for you, just too impossibly fucking nice.” Charlie sighed.  
“But I couldn't. I was just _so_ fucked up.”  
  
Ron shivered and passed the joint back. He wrapped his arms around his torso and tried to get warm by shifting from side to side.  
  
“I don't know how you've managed today. I couldn't've. I mean, it wasn't like you could just sink into the background. You had to be right there. Best man.”  
“Worst man, probably. When you're having thoughts about dramatically declaring your love and dragging the groom away to roger him senseless, I don't think it puts you in as a contender for 'Best Man of the Year'.”  
  
Chuckling, Charlie agreed, “Well. Yeah. It's not ideal.”  
  
“And d'you know what the hardest thing is?” Ron asked, finding that now Charlie had opened the can of worms he was content to let them wriggle far and wide. “That this could have been different if I'd not been so much of a fucking coward. If I'd grown a pair and told him... I dunno. Maybe he would have wanted me back. Maybe that'd be us married in there, drunk on one another and looking forward to two weeks of sex on a remote island.”  
  
“You've really thought about this, haven't you?”  
“Haven't thought of much else to tell you the truth, mate.”  
  
Ron was at least able to smile at how pathetic he sounded, but it was a bitter twist of his lips which he knew didn't flatter him.  
  
“Well, this went way too quickly,” Charlie muttered, grinding out the butt of the joint under his boot. “I've got more but they're up in my room.”  
“I need to get going anyway.” Ron fought hard to keep his teeth from chattering. “I can't bear much more of it. I don't think I can say goodbye.”  
“Ron, you have to say goodbye.”  
“I can't. It's too hard.” He shook his head. “If I slink off now nobody will be any the wiser and all round it'll be much easier.”  
“He's your best friend. And she's our sister.”  
“Don't,” Ron held his hands up. “I know. I know what this makes me and I can't handle you telling me how rubbish a friend and brother I am right now because I already know. I know, Charlie.”  
  
He coughed, hoping to clear the croak which had crept into his voice.  
  
Ron sighed when Charlie froze, thinking he was about to get an earful, but he realised that Charlie was looking over his shoulder. When he turned around he would have given anything - _anything_ \- to have had the ground swallow him up then and there. Harry was standing a few feet away, looking pale and unquestionably upset.  
  
“How much did you hear?” Ron asked, as the numbness returned and seemed to spread through him.   
  
“What was I supposed to be hearing?”  
“Harry, don't muck about-”  
“I want to hear it from your mouth.” Harry's voice rose. “Tell me what I wanted to hear. What you had _months_ to tell me and you didn't, and now it's too late. Tell me.”  
  
Ron opened his mouth to give Harry what he wanted, but Charlie beat him to it.  
  
“Harry. What's the point? We're all a bit drunk and tonight is your wedding night. Ron doesn't want to cause a scene; he just wants to go home.”  
  
“TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME!” Harry shouted. “Tell me, you fucking bastard!”  
  
Charlie grabbed Ron's arm and started to drag him away, but Ron found his legs unwilling to work.  
  
“I love you,” he said.  
  
It was nothing like he'd imagined the first time he said that to Harry would be. Harry certainly wasn't supposed to look as angry.  
  
“Why?” Harry demanded. “Why did you wait until now?”  
“I'd hoped to get out of here without saying a word.” Ron shook his head. “I didn't want to ruin your day. I'm sorry, Harry.”  
  
Harry just stared back at him. Ron shivered.  
  
“I think we should go,” Charlie said softly. “Let's just get out of here, Ron.”  
“You're not going to say goodbye?” Harry sounded mostly devastated.  
“I can't,” Ron forced out.  
“Coward.”  
  
“Well, yeah. I guess I am.”  
  
They stared at one another for so long that Charlie started looking between them expectantly, obviously waiting for one of them to explode.  
  
But Harry abruptly turned on his heel and marched off into the darkness. Ron pointlessly reached out into the black with his hands.  
  
“Ron. I'm taking you home,” Charlie whispered, before putting his arms around him and Apparating them away.  
  
***  
  
“Is eating your feelings helping?” Charlie enquired.  
  
Ron couldn't answer him because his mouth was full of chocolate tart. One of their mum's, as it happened: rich and delicious and the perfect comfort food. Or, more accurately for Ron at that moment, punishment food – he was likely to make himself sick by the time he'd finished.  
  
“Another drink?” Charlie asked.  
  
Ron nodded but simply reached out and took the bottle out of Charlie's hands. He washed down the chocolate with a deep gulp and came out of it gasping.  
  
“Why? Why, Charlie?”  
“Because life's fucking shit,” Charlie said bleakly. “I'm sorry, Ron.”  
“I actually want to curl up in a little ball and die.”  
“Well... love hurts.”  
“You can say that again.”  
  
Ron swigged more Firewhiskey and glared at the fire.  
  
He was sitting in his open shirt, pants and socks. Normally he tried to keep it together in front of other people but Charlie already knew, and he seemed to have no issue with Ron's half-nakedness.  
  
“So how long have you been taking the potions in the bathroom, Ron?”  
“About six months.”  
“Since they announced the wedding, you mean?”  
“Got me.”  
  
He drank again.  
  
 _”Now they're going to bed,  
And my stomach is sick,  
And it's all in my head.  
But she's touching his chest,  
Now, he takes off her dress...”_   
  
“You know what the worst thing is?”  
“What?” Charlie asked, turning towards him.  
“That I can't bear to think of them, but I can't _stop_ thinking about them. Where are they now? Are they fucking on a beach somewhere? Drinking rum and laughing at me?”  
“From the look on Harry's face I think it's more likely he's crying into his rum and missing you. Like all hell.”  
  
Ron didn't know what to say to that.  
  
“Surely you saw the look on his face, Ron? Heard what he was asking you? He wanted to know why you waited. Why you didn't tell him. I think... I think there could have been something between you.”  
  
Ron allowed his top lip to curl into a sneer and pulled the bottle close to his chest.  
  
 _”I just can't look, it's killing me  
And taking control.”_  
  
“What can I do to make this feeling go away?” he asked miserably.  
“Simple. You stop loving him.”  
  
Staring at his second eldest brother, Ron frowned.  
  
“Simple?”  
“It was a joke,” Charlie said gently. “Sorry. We're not at humour yet. Duly noted.”  
“Not wanting to be over the top, but I'd genuinely be happy to pop my clogs right now. This hurts so much.” Ron reached up to rub at his chest. “Fucking hell.”  
  
“Mr Brightside.” Charlie nudged him with his shoulder.  
“I've never been that bloke.”  
“I know. But somehow, Ron, you're going to find a way to live with this. You will.”  
  
Ron really wasn't sure about that. Sabotage seemed a much more satisfying road to head down.  
  
He drank some more whisky and looked forward to oblivion.  
  
 _-fin-_


End file.
